🔗 Share this article Male Bonds Develop One Way, Women's Friendships Another. Is It Time to Halt Efforts to Push Men More Like Women? It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.
It is beneficial to talk. Or so men are repeatedly instructed, from sources ranging from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. They remain puzzled by the typical male tendency to pass an entire evening in the pub with longstanding friends, yet come home with no insight about the significant events in each other's lives. What could they possibly be doing, all that while? Why haven't they asked how X is handling his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father? For women, whose own friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic knowledge of each other's innermost feelings, this style of male intimacy—built on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can seem strangely empty and unfulfilling. It's no surprise, one might think, that over a quarter of British men state having zero close friends; that male loneliness is endemic; that many refuse to visit a doctor unless seriously ill; that male suicide rates repeatedly outstrip female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, appear chronically frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps no one. Rethinking the Merit of Silent Companionship Yet, as per anthropologist Thomas Yarrow, this view may sell short the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was researching volunteers at a heritage steam railway in northern England when he was impressed with the closeness forged among these predominantly older men. His lengthy observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men brought up in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships centered on shared activities—"shared activity, often in companionable silence"—may be underrated. This quiet model of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just different," Yarrow suggests. Admittedly, this can seem oddly similar to how toddlers interact—alongside each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's argument is clear: just because it's not your preferred version of friendship doesn't imply it lacks significance. Maybe we should leave these men in peace with their trains, golf, or vintage auto projects—whichever activity allows them to spend time in the presence of others who also value less talk. Past Words: A Tacit Language of Care Thankfully, Yarrow is clearly not arguing that expressing emotion is harmful, nor advocating for a return to the past. Rather, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk is not for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of apparently reticent friendships. Could he be right? From a female viewpoint, one is clearly no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of observation suggests that while men may be hesitant at first to open up personal matters, once they do, they can be remarkably candid. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a lack of feeling entirely. Furthermore, while younger men brought up in a more expressive culture may be better at articulating feelings, older men are not at all incapable of it. Rebrand soft emotions as masculine "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will happily vent anger, hope, discontent, or pride for hours. The most striking about Yarrow's railway volunteers is that, despite their horror of discussing feelings, they still found ways to express what seems remarkably like care and solidarity. When an older volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were concerned. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe what was wrong. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while maintaining routine. They were looking out for each other much as female friends would, but without ever verbally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The Essential Issue: Does Bonding Require Words? It's not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the real beneficial value of friendship—the thing that fights loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to walk through life's difficulties with you, does that invariably be put into words? The debate persists. Maybe the healthiest approach is to recognize that varied forms of friendship hold equal worth, respectively satisfying the psychological needs of various individuals in their own effective way.